


Memento Mori

by LadyOneiroi



Category: Rumble Fish - S. E. Hinton
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-25
Updated: 2013-07-25
Packaged: 2017-12-21 07:23:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/897495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyOneiroi/pseuds/LadyOneiroi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You are a timekeeper in a land that eschews clocks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Memento Mori

You remember because they can’t, a duty you’ve had since childhood. The boy does not remember Mother, and Father doesn’t want to, so it was up to you to remember her. You remember long burgundy curls and a knife-sharp smile and eyes as dark as chocolate, even years after colors have vanished from your life. You also remember the day she left, a memory the old man drowns in foul-smelling drinks and the boy has lost in the sands of time.

You remember the gangs for what they were. Dangerous. Powerful. You wouldn’t go so far as to call them evil, but you knew no good would come from them, not with drugs on the street. You remember boys younger than you lying dead in alleyways for choosing the wrong side, and you try to impart that on the boy, who never listens. You remember because everyone else cries out for you to make the streets a butcher’s paradise once more. They aspire to be you, despite how you try to bring back reminders of what happened when you rule your small world.

You remember the boy who died in a fire as a result of fighting in his corner of Tulsa. You remember a three-man bodycount from your childhood, and never understood why that story stuck with you. You remembered it sometimes before rumbles, wondering if any of your boys would die in a hospital room. Nobody talks about that story, about the dark-eyed boy who found his life becoming a nightmare, but you think about it, and you wonder if the boy who never lived to be as old as you are now is glad someone tried to learn from his mistakes.

You remember a little blonde girl in pigtails you played with a lifetime ago, when your father actually worked and you lived in a big house on a hill. You remember how sweetly she laughed, and how she trusted you with her dolls. You wanted to kiss her then, a little Casanova at all of four. She never gave up on you, and when the opportunity arose, she moved into the hell you were living in. She never wanted you to be alone, a sentiment that lasted more than a decade. You remember the little girl in pigtails because sometimes it hurts to remember her as a woman grown with needle tracks up her rosy arms. It hurts to remember you’re the reason she breaks.

In the dead of night, you remember what you were, a small child in sweater vests trying to convince the neighbor’s Great Dane that he should eat your brother. You remember floating boats on the river until your Mother called you. You remember your real name is sweet on her lips. You remember the boy is just a baby, laughing and drawing attention to himself, and you hated him for it. You remember Father coming home and greeting him with a hug and a rundown of your day. You wake up from these memories with a start. The boy sleeps beside you, Father is out drinking, and Mother is somewhere on the wind.

You are a timekeeper, and the reminder that you have to remember what you try to bury is as grim as a death sentence.

**Author's Note:**

> Another tumblr transfer. You really should be used to this if you're keeping track.
> 
> The Motorcycle Boy really interests me, can you tell?
> 
> Critiques are always welcome, and thank you so much for reading!


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